SPN Fic: I Wish I Was the Moon -- 1/3 -- Sam/Dean -- NC-17
Title: I Wish I Was the Moon (1/3)
Author: sneaky_sena
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Warnings: graphic teen incest
Summary: He thought it would help Sam let go.
The first time Dean took Sam into his mouth, Sam was shaking. He cried out and gripped Dean's hair too hard and Dean soothed him, sucking gently, smoothing his thumbs against Sam's hips. He pulled back and kissed Sam's hipbone, kissed his navel, kissed his way up to Sam's jaw. He stroked Sam's hair and Sam just looked up at him, broken and raw and vulnerable in a way Dean had never seen him before.
"It's all right," Dean whispered as he wrapped his fingers around Sam's cock. "It's all right, Sammy. It's OK."
"Oh, God," Sam moaned as Dean stroked him. His entire body was shaking. Dean knew that no one had ever touched him like that before. "Oh, God. Dean, I can't...I'm going to...I can't..."
Dean shushed him, kissed the curve of Sam's neck. "It's OK," he kept whispering over and over again. "It's OK, Sammy. You don't have to hold back. Whatever you need, all right? Anything you want."
"Don't stop." Sam's voice was small. Dean kissed him over and over again and Sam clung to him, arched up against him, dug his fingers hard into Dean's shoulders.
Dean hadn't thought it would be so good. He'd known for a few years how Sam felt about him, had thought of it like growing pains, something Sam would get over as he got older. Sam had just turned sixteen, though, and the crush was only getting stronger. Dean knew things would have been different if they'd ever been able to stay someplace for longer than a few months, but they never had. He knew Sam's crush would shift to another person if only he had time to ever really know another person, but he didn't. He'd tried fixing Sam up with a few easy girls he knew, but Sam didn't want that. He'd tried fixing Sam up with a few easy guys, but Sam hadn't seemed to want that, either. Sam wanted Dean, and Dean had never been able to say no.
One night when their father was gone, Dean had sat next to Sam on his bed. Sam was reading some novel that may or may not have been for school. Sam read a lot. Dean placed his hand on Sam's cheek and stroked Sam's cheekbone with his thumb and said, "Do you want to do this?"
Sam had dropped his book and he'd looked terrified. He'd looked terrified and so lonely and he'd looked at Dean with such longing. He'd started to shake when Dean kissed him and he hadn't stopped since. Dean had kissed him long and slow, smoothing his hands down Sam's arms, holding him so gently.
"Just tonight, Sammy," Dean whispered. "Just this once, OK? Just this once and then we forget about it." Sam had nodded and fisted his hand in Dean's t-shirt and pulled him back for another kiss.
Dean had thought he'd be giving Sam something. He hadn't expected to feel so undone himself, so amazed at how beautiful Sam was like that. Sam's cheeks were flushed, his pupils dilated, his mouth dark and swollen. His body was all awkward angles when motionless, but when he moved, his long limbs were graceful and strong.
"Don't stop," Sam whispered, pressing a shaky hand to Dean's chest. "Don't ever stop." He cried out wordlessly and his head fell back, mouth open, panting.
"I got you," Dean murmured. "I'm right here." He kept his strokes steady, his fist wrapped tightly around Sam's cock. Dean had been with men before. He thought it would be the same, but it wasn't. Before it had just been bodies moving together and getting off. Now it was Sam beneath him, Sam's body in his arms. "I got you," Dean repeated. "Anything you want, Sammy."
"Fuck me."
Dean's hand stilled with the shock of those words. Sam had propped himself up on his elbows and was looking at Dean hotly. He was still shaking, but with arousal, not fear.
"Sam?"
"If this is it," Sam panted, bucking up into Dean's touch. "If this is the only time, I want it all."
Dean wet his lips with his tongue. He took a deep breath to stall for time.
Sam slid his fingers through Dean's hair. "Fuck me." It was half desperate plea and half command.
"Sammy, I don't...it's not...you're not ready. It'll hurt and--"
"I do it to myself," Sam whispered against Dean's cheek. "I use my fingers and I pretend it's you."
Dean bit his lower lip hard and groaned, picturing Sam stroking himself with one hand, slipping the fingers of the other hand into himself, riding them, head thrown back in pleasure. "Jesus Christ, Sammy."
"You won't hurt me," Sam whispered. "Please, Dean. I need you to."
Dean had become the one who was shaking, so nervous that he could barely grasp the bottle of lube he kept at the bottom of his duffle. Sam waited for him on the bed, feet flat on the mattress, legs apart, stroking his cock, his balls, down to his hole, then back up again. Dean tried not to look, tried not to see how achingly beautiful Sam was. One time. That was it. Just that one time.
Dean fumbled with the condom, pointedly not noticing the way Sam took the lube, spread it on his index and middle fingers, and slipped both inside himself. Dean tried not to notice the soft gasp Sam made or the way he rocked his hips slow and invitingly.
"Like this?" Dean asked, kneeling between Sam's legs.
Sam nodded, reached out and placed his hand on Dean's hip to steady him. He lifted his legs and closed his eyes and Dean watched Sam's face as he slowly slid inside his own brother. "Jesus Christ," Dean whispered.
"Mmm," said Sam. His eyes fluttered open. They were shiny with tears, but the tears hadn't spilled over.
"God. You OK?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
Sam nodded. "I'm sure."
"You don't want me to stop?"
Sam hooked one of his long legs around Dean's waist and shook his head. "Never."
Dean closed his eyes, tipped his head down, and concentrating to keeping the strokes slow and even. It felt incredible to be inside Sam that way, to feel their bodies so connected. It was like every nerve was on fire; every stroke of Sam's hands over his body made him shiver.
"You all right, baby?" he asked, smoothing Sam's hair back.
Sam nodded and turned his head to kiss Dean's palm.
The rutting instinct was kicking in and Dean knew that soon he wouldn't be able to control it, that his hips would move almost of their own volition. The ache inside him was growing and he kissed Sam's face over and over again. "Jesus Christ," he said, because he didn't know how to say what he was feeling, didn't even know what he was feeling well enough to put it into words. "Christ, Sammy, I...God."
Sam arched up against him and moaned low in the back of his throat. It sounded almost like a purr. His cock was hard and jutting against Dean's stomach. Dean wanted to reach down and stroke it but he couldn't coordinate the movements--it was all he could manage to hold his body up against Sam's and thrust into him over and over again. He felt heat welling at the base of his spine and he bit his lower lip hard.
Dean could feel Sam shift just enough to get a hand between them, felt the repetitive movement of Sam jerking his own cock.
"Fuck, Sammy," Dean breathed. "So good inside you."
Sam cried out, then, his body tensing, his head thrown back, and Dean felt warm wetness spurt up against his stomach and chest. The muscles around his cock tightened rhythmically and that was it, he couldn't control himself any longer. His hips snapped forward a few more times and he was coming, his face pressed to Sam's sweat-slick shoulder to muffle his cry.
Fifteen minutes later, Dean stepped into a hot shower. Sam was asleep, naked with the sheets twisted around his legs. Dean would talk to him the next morning, make sure he knew that it really had been just a one time thing.
Dean closed his eyes, let the water rush over his face. What the hell had he just done? He'd only wanted to give Sam what he wanted so he could get over it, but Dean himself felt open and raw, more than he ever had before.
He didn't know then what he'd know later; Sam was a drug--the most addictive kind. He didn't know that once would never be enough, that as time went on he'd want it more, need Sam more. He didn't know that even after years nothing but pats on the shoulder, after two years of no contact at all, he'd still wake in the middle of the night shaking and craving Sam's touch.
--------------------
On To Part Two!
Author: sneaky_sena
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Warnings: graphic teen incest
Summary: He thought it would help Sam let go.
The first time Dean took Sam into his mouth, Sam was shaking. He cried out and gripped Dean's hair too hard and Dean soothed him, sucking gently, smoothing his thumbs against Sam's hips. He pulled back and kissed Sam's hipbone, kissed his navel, kissed his way up to Sam's jaw. He stroked Sam's hair and Sam just looked up at him, broken and raw and vulnerable in a way Dean had never seen him before.
"It's all right," Dean whispered as he wrapped his fingers around Sam's cock. "It's all right, Sammy. It's OK."
"Oh, God," Sam moaned as Dean stroked him. His entire body was shaking. Dean knew that no one had ever touched him like that before. "Oh, God. Dean, I can't...I'm going to...I can't..."
Dean shushed him, kissed the curve of Sam's neck. "It's OK," he kept whispering over and over again. "It's OK, Sammy. You don't have to hold back. Whatever you need, all right? Anything you want."
"Don't stop." Sam's voice was small. Dean kissed him over and over again and Sam clung to him, arched up against him, dug his fingers hard into Dean's shoulders.
Dean hadn't thought it would be so good. He'd known for a few years how Sam felt about him, had thought of it like growing pains, something Sam would get over as he got older. Sam had just turned sixteen, though, and the crush was only getting stronger. Dean knew things would have been different if they'd ever been able to stay someplace for longer than a few months, but they never had. He knew Sam's crush would shift to another person if only he had time to ever really know another person, but he didn't. He'd tried fixing Sam up with a few easy girls he knew, but Sam didn't want that. He'd tried fixing Sam up with a few easy guys, but Sam hadn't seemed to want that, either. Sam wanted Dean, and Dean had never been able to say no.
One night when their father was gone, Dean had sat next to Sam on his bed. Sam was reading some novel that may or may not have been for school. Sam read a lot. Dean placed his hand on Sam's cheek and stroked Sam's cheekbone with his thumb and said, "Do you want to do this?"
Sam had dropped his book and he'd looked terrified. He'd looked terrified and so lonely and he'd looked at Dean with such longing. He'd started to shake when Dean kissed him and he hadn't stopped since. Dean had kissed him long and slow, smoothing his hands down Sam's arms, holding him so gently.
"Just tonight, Sammy," Dean whispered. "Just this once, OK? Just this once and then we forget about it." Sam had nodded and fisted his hand in Dean's t-shirt and pulled him back for another kiss.
Dean had thought he'd be giving Sam something. He hadn't expected to feel so undone himself, so amazed at how beautiful Sam was like that. Sam's cheeks were flushed, his pupils dilated, his mouth dark and swollen. His body was all awkward angles when motionless, but when he moved, his long limbs were graceful and strong.
"Don't stop," Sam whispered, pressing a shaky hand to Dean's chest. "Don't ever stop." He cried out wordlessly and his head fell back, mouth open, panting.
"I got you," Dean murmured. "I'm right here." He kept his strokes steady, his fist wrapped tightly around Sam's cock. Dean had been with men before. He thought it would be the same, but it wasn't. Before it had just been bodies moving together and getting off. Now it was Sam beneath him, Sam's body in his arms. "I got you," Dean repeated. "Anything you want, Sammy."
"Fuck me."
Dean's hand stilled with the shock of those words. Sam had propped himself up on his elbows and was looking at Dean hotly. He was still shaking, but with arousal, not fear.
"Sam?"
"If this is it," Sam panted, bucking up into Dean's touch. "If this is the only time, I want it all."
Dean wet his lips with his tongue. He took a deep breath to stall for time.
Sam slid his fingers through Dean's hair. "Fuck me." It was half desperate plea and half command.
"Sammy, I don't...it's not...you're not ready. It'll hurt and--"
"I do it to myself," Sam whispered against Dean's cheek. "I use my fingers and I pretend it's you."
Dean bit his lower lip hard and groaned, picturing Sam stroking himself with one hand, slipping the fingers of the other hand into himself, riding them, head thrown back in pleasure. "Jesus Christ, Sammy."
"You won't hurt me," Sam whispered. "Please, Dean. I need you to."
Dean had become the one who was shaking, so nervous that he could barely grasp the bottle of lube he kept at the bottom of his duffle. Sam waited for him on the bed, feet flat on the mattress, legs apart, stroking his cock, his balls, down to his hole, then back up again. Dean tried not to look, tried not to see how achingly beautiful Sam was. One time. That was it. Just that one time.
Dean fumbled with the condom, pointedly not noticing the way Sam took the lube, spread it on his index and middle fingers, and slipped both inside himself. Dean tried not to notice the soft gasp Sam made or the way he rocked his hips slow and invitingly.
"Like this?" Dean asked, kneeling between Sam's legs.
Sam nodded, reached out and placed his hand on Dean's hip to steady him. He lifted his legs and closed his eyes and Dean watched Sam's face as he slowly slid inside his own brother. "Jesus Christ," Dean whispered.
"Mmm," said Sam. His eyes fluttered open. They were shiny with tears, but the tears hadn't spilled over.
"God. You OK?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
Sam nodded. "I'm sure."
"You don't want me to stop?"
Sam hooked one of his long legs around Dean's waist and shook his head. "Never."
Dean closed his eyes, tipped his head down, and concentrating to keeping the strokes slow and even. It felt incredible to be inside Sam that way, to feel their bodies so connected. It was like every nerve was on fire; every stroke of Sam's hands over his body made him shiver.
"You all right, baby?" he asked, smoothing Sam's hair back.
Sam nodded and turned his head to kiss Dean's palm.
The rutting instinct was kicking in and Dean knew that soon he wouldn't be able to control it, that his hips would move almost of their own volition. The ache inside him was growing and he kissed Sam's face over and over again. "Jesus Christ," he said, because he didn't know how to say what he was feeling, didn't even know what he was feeling well enough to put it into words. "Christ, Sammy, I...God."
Sam arched up against him and moaned low in the back of his throat. It sounded almost like a purr. His cock was hard and jutting against Dean's stomach. Dean wanted to reach down and stroke it but he couldn't coordinate the movements--it was all he could manage to hold his body up against Sam's and thrust into him over and over again. He felt heat welling at the base of his spine and he bit his lower lip hard.
Dean could feel Sam shift just enough to get a hand between them, felt the repetitive movement of Sam jerking his own cock.
"Fuck, Sammy," Dean breathed. "So good inside you."
Sam cried out, then, his body tensing, his head thrown back, and Dean felt warm wetness spurt up against his stomach and chest. The muscles around his cock tightened rhythmically and that was it, he couldn't control himself any longer. His hips snapped forward a few more times and he was coming, his face pressed to Sam's sweat-slick shoulder to muffle his cry.
Fifteen minutes later, Dean stepped into a hot shower. Sam was asleep, naked with the sheets twisted around his legs. Dean would talk to him the next morning, make sure he knew that it really had been just a one time thing.
Dean closed his eyes, let the water rush over his face. What the hell had he just done? He'd only wanted to give Sam what he wanted so he could get over it, but Dean himself felt open and raw, more than he ever had before.
He didn't know then what he'd know later; Sam was a drug--the most addictive kind. He didn't know that once would never be enough, that as time went on he'd want it more, need Sam more. He didn't know that even after years nothing but pats on the shoulder, after two years of no contact at all, he'd still wake in the middle of the night shaking and craving Sam's touch.
--------------------
On To Part Two!